Blood Cries Out

The One Who Walked Away

On the 12th of February, 5,000 dollars were delivered to John green's motel on Israel street. Once confirmation of David Levin's death arrived, he will earn an additional 10,000 dollars.

And so, on the 13th of February 1999, he made his way from his cheap motel covered in a thick black coat and protected by the dead of night. He would earn his payday and be back before the clock struck midnight. His target, a young college student lived on the ground floor of a 5-story building with his entrance separate from that of the building and separate from any neighbor hanging around at this time of night. He was particularly confident (though in his mind confidence showed arrogance and weakness, especially when any 60-year-old shopkeeper owned a gun). that said, his odds of getting caught were abysmally low. In this neighborhood, a single stray bullet would not justify calling the police. But if he did scare a neighbor he would be gone before they can arrive. His plan of action was simple, knock on the door, shoot, leave, this would hardly allow time for any cop to show up.

As he was making his way through the desolate street surrounded by parked cars and a single street lamp he realized just how much luck was on his side. Not one single witness to testify. And so, he ascended to the ground floor from the elevated street and began fiddling with his gun.

As john green enlarged the distance between him and the single street lamp his trail become darker, the figure of the hitman was now only slightly illuminated by an open door belonging to David Levin. Now, drawing his gun he was prepared to kill. He entered the home through the kitchen door into an empty house. On the stove, the gas lighter was on and above it a burning coal black burger patty was frying. He turned off the stove, closed the door, and made his way to the washroom. He slowly turned the old rusty dial and took a glance inside noticing a closed curtain over the bath. He closed the door, waited 5 heartbeats, and kicked it open gun in hand, again, no one was there. No one was in the closet, no one was behind the curtain. He went back to the hallway now making sure every door and window was locked. If the fellow who lived here knew what was coming and escaped then he was far gone by now. Though, he most likely was in the house, "why would someone escape and leave the gas on?" Unless it was done to fool him.

Looking through every room The Hitman was prepared to burn the whole place down just to fish out the guy but instead, he assumed that he was wrong and the guy did leave. Then a thought burst into his brain, "what if he called the cops by now?" And then he was scared.

He decided that his job today was done and he should cover up his steps and leave. He picked up the keys to the guy's flat and stuffed the in his pocket. Going over to the front door he noticed that the whole kitchen was a mess. The kid must have gotten scared and left in a hurry. He decided to leave through the back door. The building hallway was dirty with old pools of water where the floors were uneven and dead roaches. Near the top of the stairs, he thought he saw dried blood but couldn't say. He checked the target's mailbox, it was empty. When he left he breathed a sigh of relief, no cops were waiting for him and the street was as desolated as when he arrived. He noticed a red car which was all scratched up and the ground beside It was broken up but he could not remember if it has been like that when he first came by here. He checked up the scene and noticed a small bug filled with dark green grass, and made his way back to his cheap motel on Israel street.